


Unusual Taste (ItalyxReader)

by GermanyXItaly1000



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Feliciano - Freeform, ItalyxReader, Reader Insert, Vargas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermanyXItaly1000/pseuds/GermanyXItaly1000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciano giggled and picked up his fork, smiling sweetly at her, and twirled the fork in the midst of the pasta noodles, gathering a large mouthful of it and offering her a bite. "You want some?" Fecliano was such a sweet young man--the sweetest boy she'd ever known--and (Name) had never been more intrigued and startled by this new side of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unusual Taste (ItalyxReader)

"Pasta?" he asked, and slid the plate directly before her so that she gazed down with wide eyes at the steamy, thick, yellow strands of spaghetti, trembling as she inhaled the sweet scent of the steam that rose from the food on the plate.

She couldn't help it; her mouth watered, her skin tingled, and yet she knew she could not bring herself to eat it. She nearly lowered her face to the food, nearly consumed it pleasantly, and she could almost taste the sweet, juicy sauce on her tongue.

And yet, all the same, she felt as if she could retch now, as if she could empty the contents of her stomach right on top of this gorgeously plated food, and in her mind there was a hint of disgust--revulsion. This man she loved so dearly...

Feliciano giggled and picked up his fork, smiling sweetly at her, and twirled the fork in the midst of the pasta noodles, gathering a large mouthful of it and offering her a bite. "You want some?" he asked, and she shook her head, resisting her instincts to bite down on that wonderfully-scented food and another side of her that wanted her to scream, to throw up on the spot.

"No, thank you," she said timidly, and turned her head back and forth slightly again, not wanting to discourage him, not wanting to make him feel bad. It couldn't be helped, could it...? It was in his nature, after all...

"Oh? Are you afraid of offending me, darling?" he said, eyebrows furrowed in concern, and she paused, then nodded. "Don't worry! I don't take offense that badly! After all, I like being nice to lovely girls like you!"

"Thank you," she whispered, and hung her head, and he asked her, "What's wrong?"

This lovely smell, the wonderful, enticing scent of the food before her... she gulped and tried hard not to imagine how much more there would be, how much more he had to give her. She could practically smell the blood-red wine sitting in large glassfuls on the kitchen counter, a room away, the plates of ravioli and  _prosciutto cotto_ that lay in fancily garnished dishes on the table. She tried hard not to think about it as the brown-haired innocent before her smiled sweetly with a chuckle of glee.

"Aw, poor (Name)," he said, eyes growing wide with sorrow. "You wouldn't offend me! Not at all! Just tell me what you think! How you feel... I want to know that,  _darling_ ," he told her, his hand reaching over to place itself upon hers.

"I'm full," she whispered almost shyly, and he looked taken aback.

"Full?" he said with disbelief, incredulously. "Full? Already? What do you mean by that?"

"I'm full," she whispered again, her eyes going to her shoes as she twiddled her thumbs the best she could in these tight, tight confines. He was such a happy, sweet little boy... to offend him, she was sure she couldn't...

With a short gasp in her breath, she said to him, "I... I couldn't possibly eat any more. I've had five helpings already, Mr. Vargas..."

"Call me  _Feliciano_ , (Name)," he said, a small smile spreading across those warm, flushed cheeks, his face aglow with his gentle, kind grin. "But five... you're sure that's enough? I eat far more than five, after all, and I'm barely full by then! Perhaps have another? Or another?"

"No," she choked, shaking her head, and he stared down at her, eyes narrowed in concern as he asked, "Are you alright, (Name)? You look pale."

"I'm... I'm  _full_ ," was all she could manage to cough out, and she exhaled shakily, her eyes screwing shut in desperation as she said again, " _I'm full_."

"Full? Really?" he said, and suddenly his eyes went cold; his fists clenched, his arms shook violently, and she thought,  _Is he angry? No, not Feliciano, he would never be angry with a soul in his life...!_

She thought so; until he pushed her hard, the chair tumbling backwards, and she, tied to it, fell back as well--her back ached as the hard wood of the chair dug into her skin, and a cry escaped her swollen lips.

_Swollen_ , she thought, feeling a metal edge to them.  _Swollen from closing down on a fork so many countless times. Swollen from pulling food past her lips and into her mouth, chewing painfully as she swallowed, throat sore from so much use._

He pushed the fork, laden with spaghetti, forcefully into her mouth, and she nearly choked on it, gasping and spluttering and begging for mercy.

_Swollen. He shoved another bite of spaghetti into her mouth as she gazed up and begged for him to stop, to have pity on her, and he laughed insanely, horrifying_ innocent _in that tone of voice, and smiled down at her._  

"Do you like my food, (Name)?" he asked her, his eyes blazing with pleasure as he crouched down by her gasping form, her chest heaving up and down as she struggled to breathe. It was the terror and fear that was consuming her; the strange realization that the boy that she loved was such a monster. "Do you like it?" he asked again when she didn't answer.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice quaking with the fear, and the Italian perked up, face bright with happiness, and gave her another one of his usual, sweet, adoring smiles.

Oh, how she wished that she'd never met him.

"Good," he crooned, and she gasped, screamed, shrieked--there was a sudden flash of silver as he drew the knife from his pocket, that demented, cruel smile fixed on his tanned and lusciously smooth skin as he brought it down upon her, butchered her, dragged the tip across her skin and slicing her neck and throat...

"Very good," he murmured, and dipped a thin finger into the pools of crimson that were swallowing up his rug in their lovely shade of red. He placed the finger to his lips and licked; delicious. He smiled down at the dead girl (Name).

What a pleasant visitor she had been. Such a very, very pleasant visitor. It was such a wonderful coincidence that they would meet by Fate, that his work at the local Italian restaurant's catering service had taken him straight to her doorstep. Yes, an act of Fate indeed; and then he'd offered to show her  _real_  Italian cuisine, to help her warm up the food on the stove, to add a wonderful  _touch_  of his own. And he'd told her his name, and she had told him hers.

_(Name). What a very pleasant sounding name._

Feliciano brought a small, thin vial from his pocket--he always carried this around in case he felt compelled to  _add a wonderful touch of his own_ to customers' food. Smiling brightly, he filled the vial with some of that delicious red substance that was staining the girl's floor and brought it to his mouth, tongue once more flicking out to savour the taste.

"Very good, (Name)," he whispered in delight, and leaned up against her; her eyes were wide, cold, open as they faced the ceiling with just a dead hint of fear in them, and he giggled. She looked really very beautiful like this. "If you like my food that much... the truly wonderful cuisine of Italy..."

_Then you can become my next meal, child._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. :)


End file.
